Where the lovelight gleams
by Quiet Time
Summary: All that an immortal could want for Christmas is an anchor point in infinity. Jack's anchor joins him in a seedy hotel on a very special night each year, courtesy of the man in the red suit. But things are changing at the North Pole, and Ianto is changing right along with them. Third part of the trilogy comprising of 'If only in my dreams' & 'I'll be home for Christmas'.
1. Chapter 1

_Seasons Greetings to all. Especially to those of you who have taken the time to encourage me this year, in spite of my infrequent updates. _

_This year's offering is the final instalment in the series of Christmas fics that began with 'The Night Before Christmas', also the final part of the trilogy consisting of 'If only in my dreams' & 'I'll be Home for Christmas'. (I suggest you read at least those two before tackling this one, if you haven't already)._

_Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

The ornate, overloaded chair groaned as it accepted the not inconsiderable bulk of one Saint Nicholas, also known as Father Christmas, Santa Claus, Kris Kringle and variations thereof.

Or just Nick, to his friends.

Nick yawned, stretched, and reached for the coffee currently en-route to his cherry-red coaster. His nose detected cinnamon. His eyes detected concern. His heart, already soft to begin with, melted a bit more. It shouldn't really be a matter of joy to have caused worry to another person, but it _was_ nice to have someone caring for him after millennia of _being_ the carer.

Nick smiled warmly at the still young-looking man who'd become his son in every way except the strictly biological. "I'm fine, Ianto," he responded, answering the question which Ianto was always too polite to ask. "Just tired." He sighed. "The route seems to get longer and more complicated every year and I'm an old man, after all. Only to be expected."

"I could help more," Ianto offered instantly.

Aged blue eyes twinkled. "You always say that, son." The boy – and Nick still couldn't help thinking of Ianto that way, what with the still-brown hair and the unlined face – already did more than his fair share. The heavens alone knew how much else the lad would take on if Nick actually encouraged it.

"And you always brush me off," Ianto countered. "But I really feel that I _should_ do more, Nick, what with all you've done for me."

Nick leaned back in his chair, letting his eyes drift shut as he sipped the ambrosial liquid far too divine to be dismissed as 'coffee'. The boy was thinking about his visits with Jack, of course. As though he didn't deserve every good that thing was finally coming his way.

"No more than you deserve," Nick noted, on the basis that if he said it often enough the lad would eventually believe him. He didn't need to open his eyes to see the shy smile, the gentle blush which his intrinsically jolly nature couldn't resist provoking further. "No more than _he_ deserves, either."

It took a great degree of finesse to wink with your eyes closed, but Nick was a past master at every possible variation of winking, so he managed.

And with an abashed little scuffle of leather-soled shoes, Nick was left alone with his coffee and his conscience.

The boy _had_ already taken on more than his share. It was too soon for more.

Ianto hadn't really been here _that_ long, relatively speaking. He was still finding his feet in so many ways. And there was Jack, too, so slow to accept he deserved his share of happiness that he'd let it slip through his fingers instead of clutching on tight.

The boys needed time to settle into things, Nick decided. Another few decades at least.

Ianto's voice drifted down the hallway, bantering with the elves, leaving a wave of giggles in his wake. Most likely accompanied by a flurry of activity.

Nick remembered when he used to have that sort of energy. The boy was a treasure. He loved him, he did. Both of them.

Maybe closer to a century would be better. No need to rush.

-XXX-

The first few years were a festival of uncertainty, even with the solid piece of evidence sewn into the lining of Jack's greatcoat pocket. He checked for it so many times that the fabric was thin and shiny by the time he made his annual booking for that particular room in that particular hotel. It had gone threadbare by the end of the following year, and by midway through the next he'd worked a hole big enough that he could sneak a finger through to touch the silk packet within.

Then came the time when Ianto threw Jack's coat across the room and the precious little bundle rolled across the floor and vanished under the bed. They practically had to dismantle the whole thing to get it out.

Ianto sat cross-legged on the remade bed and sewed everything back together, frowning in reproof while Jack fidgeted like the erring schoolboy that he still was at heart. Such a mundane activity in such a bizarre situation. Here they were, a pair of lovers with the disturbing habit of dying in each other's arms, snatched out of reality to be together for one night a year- and _doing the mending_.

It was so _not _what Jack would ever have imagined, and perversely that was what finally sealed it for him. This was no-one's idea of a fantasy. It was, however, a tiny slice of sorely missed reality. Not what he'd ever thought he wanted, but precisely what he needed to quiet the last of his doubts.

Contemplating it while Ianto dozed in his arms, Jack theorised that maybe he'd finally racked up enough years on Santa's 'nice' list to balance the 'naughty'. When he voiced that conclusion to Ianto, he got a gentle slap on the back of his head and the assurance that he'd never been on the 'naughty' list in the first place.

Jack didn't care either way. Redemption or reward, he'd somehow won his heart's desire and it was here in his arms, if only for one night a year.

On his way out the next morning, Jack visited the booking desk and reserved the room for 'same time next year' for as far ahead as the booking system would accept. The concierge arched his eyebrows – green and feathery, but still eyebrows - and checked Jack's credit rating before handing over the confirmation chit.

Jack left the hotel whistling a tune that hadn't been composed yet, looking forward to doing exactly the same until it became a classic.

He had something to look forward to now, and was finally starting to believe that he always would. All that an immortal could want for Christmas was an anchor point in infinity.

Trust Santa to know the perfect gift.

* * *

_There are three more chapters plus an epilogue to come. If Santa is kind to me they will all be posted before Christmas._

_Thank you for reading. _


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you to those who took time out of this frantic part of the year to comment on the first chapter. I hope you enjoy this next bit, in which such plot as there is begins to emerge.  
(btw: If you're as confused as Jack by the kangaroos you might need to revisit 'I'll be home for Christmas'.) _

* * *

Jack expected things to become somewhat routine after what he considered his epiphany, but in fact the date was the only thing which _didn't_ change. And even _that_ was dependent on using the Old Earth calendar.

Getting into the right room proved to be a challenge in itself. Every year there was a new concierge to raise his/her/its/their eyebrows – or equivalent – while checking the register. And every year, Jack smiled his most winning smile and explained that, Yes please, he _did_ want exactly the same room, which was why he'd gone to the trouble of booking it so far ahead. And thank you but No, he wasn't interested in any of the special offers available to such a valued guest. If Housekeeping hadn't been in he was happy to wait, but not for _too_ long, and surely you're mistaken about a reserved room being in the middle of renovations? Because naturally the point of pre-booking a room was to have it ready for him when he arrived, wasn't it? Oh, and nice try, but he'd specified _spatially _the same room, regardless of whatever bout of renumbering/renaming/relocating the hotel underwent.

Oh, they'd tried them all, they had. Jack enjoyed many a complimentary drink in the cocktail lounge while this year's supposed mix up was rectified. Curiosity, it appeared, wasn't restricted to those of feline descent. 'What the hell is this man up to?' had become a game, one that even Jack enjoyed until the novelty waned. Somewhere in this complex, he was sure, were the records pertaining to what had to amount to a substantial bounty for the first staff member who worked out what exactly was the deal with this recurring booking stretching backwards and forwards over the years.

Jack seriously considered buying the hotel - hell, the whole damned asteroid it was built on - just to avoid the ongoing aggravation. But then again, he knew from experience that there was nothing to equal the curiosity of your own staff when it came to ferreting out your secrets.

The room itself was usually different, too, once Jack finally gained access and dispensed with the inevitable inquisitive staff member who'd escorted him. Redecorated, refurbished, flooring, even walls had been replaced on one memorable occasion. Never had a room been so thoroughly or regularly upgraded. Jack himself had become curious as the reasoning behind it all, only to laugh himself somewhat stupid on uncovering the persistent belief that there was a fortune concealed somewhere in the room, to which Jack helped himself on an annual basis. Jack wondered if the person who'd finally twigged to the significance of the date got a payout for it.

Thank all the fates, or perhaps just Thank St Nicholas, no-one had ever scanned for temporal anomalies.

Ianto changed, too.

That was probably inevitable.

Sometimes Jack thought that Ianto was the biggest change of all.

-XXX-

The changes started small, and began with a mellowing of attitude of which Jack could only approve.

"Did you know you're my longest relationship?" Jack asked lazily, sitting back on his knees – and Ianto's as it happened.

Ianto swatted him weakly with one hand, but otherwise didn't move from his prone position in the middle of the bed. "Hardly," he scoffed.

Jack took a moment to admire the effect of his massage skills before deciding he ought to respond. "It is though. Fifty years we've been doing this. Do you really think I've made it that far with anyone else?"

Ianto rolled over, dislodging Jack and leaving them in a tangle of limbs which neither was in a hurry to unwind. "Fifty days," he corrected. "Well, fifty nights, I suppose. Less than a year, really. But," he added, smiling as Jack pouted, "I prefer to think of it as fifty amazing one-night stands." His smile turned pensive. "Sometimes I feel bad about you cheating on whoever you're with through the year."

Jack bit his lip, chewing it over. This was exactly the type of conversation which used to land him up to the eyebrows in the smelly stuff. But he didn't want to lie, either.

"I'm cheating on you, not them," he said eventually.

Ianto gazed at him intently for an endless moment, then pounced. In a good way.

-XXX-

"Fifty days plus the two years in Cardiff," Jack persisted. Later. When they'd both got their breath back.

Ianto propped himself up on Jack's chest. "You were with Hart for five years," he countered, driving his point home with a pointy finger in the ribs.

Jack pulled Ianto off his chest and into his side. "You _are_ my heart," he said lavishly, dropping equally lavish kisses onto the thick brown hair. "And if that's your benchmark, well you'd better remember this conversation, Jones, Ianto Jones, because we'll be having it again," he paused to jab at his wristband, "one thousand and forty-four years from now."

Ianto's lips moved, tickling Jack's shoulder, as he ran through the calculations himself. "With you on the thousand, but I get forty-three," he mused.

"You forgot to allow for a leap year," Jack explained, taking smirk to an unheard of level.

"So I did," Ianto agreed, after reviewing the data. He sighed theatrically. "Name your forfeit."

Jack's face lost all levity. "Don't forget to _be _here in a thousand years."

Their eyes met, remembering, renewing. "Never could," Ianto agreed solemnly.

They weren't traditional vows, but they'd do nicely.

-XXX-

"You do enough," Nick said, for the umpty-seventh time in as many years.

Ianto did, indeed, do enough already, and persisted in taking on more without authorisation, bless his little red socks. Nick himself was guiltily aware of being little more than a figurehead leader nowadays – and it showed.

The North Pole had always been something of a 'seat of your pants' organisation under Nick's regime. Things were done when they got done, and in the end it all worked out, which probably owed more to luck than judgement, not to mention a large helping of the magic of Christmas. But it _did_ work. The presents were always delivered on time, so Santa himself had never seen the need to tinker with anything much. Until Ianto arrived and start tweaking.

Which, now Nick thought about it, was probably exactly how it should be. Just far in advance of all expectation.

Nick _had_ suspected what the Universe was up to when it dropped Ianto on him like so much bedraggled tinsel. _No-one_ stumbled into this version of the North Pole by accident, not even via Rift. But the boy was so sad, so worn and dispirited by the life he'd led and lost; Nick assumed it would take a century or so to ease him into the right frame of mind.

Of course, that was before he'd brought Jack back into the picture. Brilliant idea of his that had been, reuniting those two. In hindsight, he should have expected that to speed things along. But there was the sticking point, too. Nick had been determined that the boys should have plenty of time together before having to shoulder additional burdens.

But Ianto had put his hand to the reins, literally and figuratively, and nowadays the North Pole ran like superior clockwork at the twitch of those guiding eyebrows. They still did everything they used to do, but somehow it all happened at a more regular, less frantic place. Even the last-minute wrapping frenzy was a distant disturbing memory.

It was a magic all of its own, in Nick's opinion, which again was exactly as it should be. The elves had never had so much free time and were all the more troublesome for it, and what a joy that was to see after their millennia of toil. The reindeer would be fat as well as lazy except that Ianto had arranged an exercise program for them – the fabled Reindeer Games - which kept the elves entertained in their new leisure time, and which the animals themselves took to like the empty-headed exhibitionists they were.

As for those kangaroos - well Nick tried not to think about _them_ too much. He'd never really warmed to the blessed things, nor they to him, not that he could fault their effort or obedience. Still, the snow-white macropods were Ianto's innovation through and through, and Nick was glad to say he didn't have much to do with them except shake the reins.

Hmmm. Now there was a thought, and it had benefits all around.

Nick raised a finger to halt the flow of increasingly frustrated assurances. "How about you take those bouncing things of yours off my hands?" he offered. "Drive them yourself, I mean."

Ianto smiled so widely Nick almost feared for the stability of his ears. "Are you sure?" he asked, as though he hadn't been haranguing Nick to delegate for the last hour.

Nick smiled, his trademark smile but sincere for all that. "It always did feel like I was stealing your thunder when I took them out," he admitted freely, his smile broadening further as Ianto began bouncing very subtly on his toes.

"But you'll need something a bit more substantial than your suit jackets," he cautioned, when the lad showed signs of running off just as he was. "You might be landing in the tropics but it gets cold up amongst the clouds." Nick paused, examining the words on the tip of his tongue before releasing them. "Why don't you get the elves to run you up something?"

And just at that moment the North Pole held its collective breath.

Ianto froze midstride, frowning. "Not furs," he said thoughtfully. "Not for the tropics."

_And not for you_, Nick thought. Just as it should be. Once upon a time he'd considered the brown robes of a saint too dull. Each to his own. This was the way these things worked, even if his opinion they shouldn't be working quite this soon.

"Go see the elves," Nick repeated, and hoped the Universe was proud of itself.

-XXX-

"Love the coat," Jack said, arching an eyebrow from the bed. "Getting competitive, are we?"

Ianto stepped fully out of the golden glow of the Rift portal, brushing his hands self-consciously along the sides of something long, reddish, and every bit as imposingly flappy as Jack's own. It even had a cape-like addition around the shoulders, which Jack couldn't help but view as a challenge to his own epaulettes. Good colour, though. Not the traditional Santa-red Jack was accustomed to see tumbling out of the Rift at this time of year, but a more subtle variation leaning towards the orangey-end of the spectrum.

Ianto promptly flushed redder than the coat. "Australian stockmen used to wear these," he explained. "The elves thought it would work well with the kangaroos."

As an explanation, it didn't. Jack could only blink. "Kangaroos?" he repeated, in a tone of enquiry he would later regret, given that Ianto promptly launched into a somewhat garbled but highly enthusiastic description of the team who weren't reindeers, whom Ianto personally had selected and trained and now – just this year, Jack! – only just sent them back this very moment – drove himself, covering the tropics and the deserts and all those other regions so warm that reindeer really shouldn't be expected to handle them in the first place.

It was enchanting seeing Ianto so enthusiastic, so much so that Jack couldn't bring himself to protest the intrusion into his own personal Ianto-time. It took less than an hour for Ianto to talk himself out, and Jack had always loved listening to him talk anyway, even if the subject matter was somewhat indecipherable.

Besides, they always had next year. And always would.

Jack didn't believe in much, but he believed in this. He believed in Christmas. He believed in Santa and reindeers and that great suffering resulted in great reward. And that this was _his_ reward, which he'd earned and was entitled to enjoy.

Jack believed in Ianto.

* * *

_Ianto's coat is a 'Driz a bone', in case you were wondering. Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading. _


	3. Chapter 3

_And here we are at the end - or is it the beginning? Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and/or comment. May all your Christmases be bright._

* * *

"I barely do anything around here as it is," Nick protested, mostly by habit now. More than half of the Children of Earth had kangaroos landing on their roofs instead of reindeer, which was stretching the definition of Tropical to its limits and beyond.

"You deserve the break," Ianto insisted earnestly. "You've done it all by yourself for far too long."

Nick sighed. He could keep telling himself that the boy wasn't ready, but his heart wasn't really in it anymore and he was running out of justifications in any case. Ianto was already working himself and the rest of the inhabitants of the Pole to previously unknown levels of efficiency and still vibrating with the sort of energy Nick remembered thrumming through his own veins. Even Jack was long past the point where Nick needed to feed him pointed little reminders through the year.

"And after all, Nick - _isn't that why the Rift brought me here in the first place?_"

The words echoed back from the brightly hued walls around them with all the gravity of the pronouncement they were.

The two men eyed each other expectantly. Nick wondered briefly whether he'd get away with bluffing, but abandoned the notion almost instantly. Yes, it _was_ still earlier than he'd expected, but the lad always had been one for getting ahead of schedule. Ianto had chosen his own time, so they'd have to make the best of it and trust that the Universe knew what it was doing.

Nick sighed heavily. "Worked it out then, have you?" he asked with resignation. "And here's me been putting off breaking it to you gently."

"It wasn't really that difficult to figure out," Ianto muttered, shuffling his feet. "And I know you aren't ready to hand over the reins, Nick." At which they both paused to smirk at the pun. "And I also know I've been pushing it," Ianto continued, "But that's only because I want you around to help when I mess up."

Nick grinned in reply, his trademark smile which had been slipping somewhat of late. It wasn't such a bad idea, at that. They could take things slowly. Job share for a bit, why not? Just because it had never been done before didn't mean it wasn't worth a try.

This could be the smoothest transition the Pole had ever had.

Blue eyes twinkled in tandem as the two men gazed at each other with perfect understanding.

"I will not be growing a beard under any circumstances," Ianto announced firmly.

"It's your face, son," Nick replied easily. "Just don't come complaining to me if you get frostbite on your chin up in the sleigh."

Ianto raised said chin. "My coat has a stand up collar," he bragged. "And I'm sure I can get the elves to make me a hat. That'll be more than enough to keep me snug."

Nick nodded with approval, stroking his own beard. "They did a good job on that coat," he agreed. "Especially the colour. I'm glad you're keeping the red."

Ianto smiled again, and Nick saw the beginnings of a whole new trademark grin. A bit on the cheeky side, bless the boy. That'd be Jack's influence.

"I've always been told red was my colour," Ianto confided.

Nick laughed, his whole body shaking with the belly laugh that would always be his alone. He rose from his chair, all tiredness forgotten, and clapped his apprentice on the shoulder. "Let's get to work then, shall we? Lots to do, son, lots to do, and it's only 342 days until Christmas."

-XXX-

Jack had fallen into the habit of arriving early to allow for the obligatory period of check-in confusion. Even so, he'd barely dropped his duffel bag on the bed before the Rift tore open with a flare so bright he had shield his eyes against it.

St Nicholas himself stepped through into the room, eyes darting around anxiously until they rested on Jack. "Ah, Good, you're here already," he said with evident relief, before reaching back into the Rift. He emerged clutching a bedraggled Ianto Jones by the collar of his coat in a strangely accurate impression of a mother cat scruffing her kitten. A big, red, fluffy mother cat whose kitten had just been dragged through a hedge. Jack would have laughed at the sight if his throat hadn't already shut tight with fear.

"Take him, would you?" Nick prompted impatiently, shoving Ianto into Jack's arms. "He needs rest and food and whatever else you've got to give him. And plenty of it."

It was a measure of his distress that Jack didn't have the heart to follow up on the innuendo. "What's happened to him?" he demanded, as Ianto began to shake against his shoulder. "Nick, what's wrong?"

"Too much too soon," Nick answered abruptly. "He's overstretched himself."

Ianto shuddered into Jack's neck. Nick's eyes softened and a single gloved hand reached out to rest gently on Ianto's shoulder. "Don't take it so hard, son," he said earnestly, when Ianto raised his head. "It was a good idea, just needs a bit more work. And you don't have to do it alone, as you're so fond of reminding me. None of us do. Now you just let Jack look after you for a bit and we'll get it sorted."

Ianto roused himself further, trying unsuccessfully to free himself from Jack's embrace. "I can help fix it," he said weakly. "I ought to help..."

Jack clutched Ianto tighter before Nick had even finished shaking his head. "We'll manage," Nick responded firmly. "You stay with Jack."

_We?_ That was twice Nick had said 'We' and he certainly didn't mean Ianto. Afire with curiosity, Jack squinted past the bulk of Santa and into the glowing orb of the Rift opening, feeling his eyes water at the blurred impression of the infinity of red-robed figures peering back at him.

"Called up the reserves," Nick announced cryptically. "And as one of them was so fond of saying, 'Help will always be given at the Pole to those who ask for it'. Now don't you mind about that, Jack, my lad," he said, blocking Jack's view as he moved to pat him warmly on the shoulder. "You just take care of Ianto until I get back." Though more stressed than Santa Claus ever should be, he still managed a wink. "I might be longer than the usual twelve hours though. Hope that's not a problem?"

Jack had the room booking extended before the Rift had even closed. It appeared that all his Christmases _could_ come at once.

He just wished he could shake the notion that it wasn't necessarily a good thing.

-XXX-

Ianto laid face-down on the bed while Jack ordered room service, remembering to insist that it be left outside the door. The last thing they needed was an inquisitive server to spread the word about the man who'd mysteriously appeared in the mystery room.

Assuming anyone but him could see Ianto in the first place, which was something Jack hadn't wondered about for a century or more.

Still, there were more important matters needing attention at the moment. Jack approached the figure on the bed, patting his back cautiously. He had no idea what to say, so he went with the inane, in the vague hope of sparking any reaction that wasn't a muffled sob.

"You've got a hat now, too," Jack observed, running a curious finger along the brim. Broad brimmed with a fancy leather band trimming the crown. It was classy-looking, in a rugged sort of way, and far more Ianto's style than the 'pointy with fur trimming' variety. "Something else to go with the kangaroos?" he guessed. "It seems to match the coat somehow."

Ianto rolled over and frowned up at him, causing the hat itself to fall onto the bed. "It's supposed to be an Akubra," he explained, snatching it up and throwing it in the general direction of the door. Jack noticed with approval that it was promptly seized by a robotic arm. The room rate was something else that changed every year, but it was always worth it.

"But given that I've just singlehandedly kick-started the phenomenon of Global Warming," Ianto announced dramatically. "I have a bit more to worry about than whether my hat matches my coat. Or my Boomers. Male kangaroos," he explained hastily, as Jack's face twisted in confusion.

At that he evidently realised he was still wearing the coat as well, which he shrugged out of and flung after the hat. Jack could have sworn he heard the robotic arm grumble its disapproval as it retrieved the pool of crumpled oilskin.

Apparently though, it wasn't the hat that had caused the confusion on Jack's face. "Global Warming," he repeated. "No, Ianto, you couldn't have. That was an issue before you were even born."

Ianto's eyes flashed. Jack blinked at him. This was new. He couldn't remember seeing Ianto in a tantrum before. In a rage, yes, and no one with any sense wanted to be on the wrong side of one of those. But a full on toddler-type dummy-spit? Never. It was endearing in scary sort of way.

Ianto pushed himself up and glared at Jack. "Have you forgotten where I've just come from? The North Pole exists in a pocket of the Rift. The Rift in space and time. Remember that?"

Jack tipped his head to one side, trying a cautious grin. "Are you saying it was _you_ who warped the Eighties? I'd always blamed the Doctor for that, personally."

"Not funny, Jack," Ianto grumbled. He ran a hand through his hair, which might have been meant to smooth it but only ended up making him look even more enticingly crumpled. "I thought I could...and Nick can't do it all himself any longer...but we've practically been tripping over each other...so I wanted to...and now I've made more work for him than ever."

And Ianto flung himself back onto the bed.

There was only one feasible course of action. Jack seized Ianto's face and kissed him very thoroughly, until the wrong sort of tension ebbed away and the right sort began to make an appearance. "Now explain," Jack said, sitting back against the headboard with an encouraging smile. "Slowly. And I'll listen. Again."

Ianto frowned as he gathered his thoughts. "The Rift," he began. "We closed the Rift in Cardiff."

"I remember," Jack agreed, failing to keep the smile. But then again, the Rift _had_ given Ianto back afterwards.

"Made it difficult for Nick to get around," Ianto continued.

Jack nodded. "It would," he agreed again. "And this results in you having a meltdown, how, exactly?"

Ianto bit his lip. "There's a similar sort of pocket near the South Pole, too," he said haltingly. "A...a...thin place, where the Vortex parallels Earth...we've used it as kind of a pit stop for years now - am I making any sense?"

Jack's face cleared somewhat. "I hadn't really thought about it, but I guess it had to be something like that, or we'd have had Santa fending off explorers," he agreed. "And I'd wondered how he was coping without the Cardiff Rift. So..."

"I tried to make it permanent," Ianto said in a rush. "Stabilise it. A secondary base at the other end of the world would have made things so much easier. But I went too far. _It_ went too far. Straight through into reality. Well, _our_ reality."

Jack put it all together, taking his time even though he was well aware of Ianto watching him anxiously. Then he took some more time to boggle.

"Ianto, did _you_ put the hole in the ozone layer?" he asked incredulously.

Ianto groaned. The food arrived. Just as well. Jack needed time to digest more than the food.

-XXX-

Nick returned a day later, as promised, looking weary but flushed with success. The hole was repaired, the pocket stabilised, all with the help of the ancestral Fathers of Christmas.

Being one himself, Jack was well versed in believing in impossible things, but he still found it difficult to get his head around that one.

It was only on his way out that Jack took the time to do the math and come to the realisation that the extra day had finally taken them to the 'five year' benchmark they'd spoken about so long ago.

Ianto was now his longest partner by any measure, and Jack was nowhere close to being bored.

Ianto was a new mystery every day – well, every year.

Jack began to whistle the tune that had now become a classic. _His_ Ianto was a mystery who had somehow grown the power to poke holes in time and space. In order to get kids their presents faster, dressed in leather and driving kangaroos.

Had anyone ever had a cooler boyfriend in the whole of time and space?

Jack was dating Ianto Claus.

* * *

_Just the epilogue to go. In which they get a Happy Ever After._

_Merry Christmas!_


	4. Chapter 4

I am terribly sorry that this took me so long to finish. Life has been hectic in the best ways. Also, I suspect that some sneaky little part of me didn't want this series to end.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_**Extract from the revised version of "Mr Coppers Guide to ... Father Christmas"**_

_Of all the traditions of Earth, the solstice-celebration known as Christmas is perhaps the most enduring, and endearing. While the celebration is religious at its core, (See the Guide to ...Christianity) for children the galaxy over, Christmas means the visit of a certain genial gentleman. From the earliest depictions of a sombre-garbed Saint Nicholas, through the cheerful Santa Claus clad in bright red with fur trim, to our current Ianto Claus with his long coat and broad-brimmed hat; the name and appearance may alter through time, but the love and affection in which he is held is eternal._

_-XXX-_

"Is that a grey hair?" Jack asked, reaching towards Ianto's scalp in pursuit of a teasing flicker of silver. "Are you going grey, Ianto?"

It wasn't that he minded. It looked good. Great, in fact. Distinguished.

It was just that grey hair meant that Ianto was aging.

Just when Jack had allowed himself to be convinced he'd have him forever, Ianto was aging.

Ianto sat up and took Jack's face carefully between his hands. "Yes, Jack, I'm going grey. Yes, it does mean I'm aging." He sighed gently and released Jack's face. "So no, I'm not actually immortal."

Jack leaned back against the headboard with a grimace. "I think I'm kind of horrified that I actually wished it on you," he confessed. And he was, _now_, but he couldn't deny that the burden of immortality had lightened while he'd thought there was someone to share it. "But you're ... extended?" he ended hopefully.

Ianto smiled softly, his heart turning over at the mix of hope and dread gleaming from Jack eyes. "I only age when I'm out of the Rift," he confirmed, raising an admonitory finger before Jack could interrupt. "But even with this, _and_ helping Nick with the runs, I'm only out for a day or two each year." His voice softened. "We've got plenty of time, Jack. Don't go borrowing trouble, not yet at least."

-XXX-

_The drift of name is easily explained, from, Saint Nicholas to Santa Claus, to the more recent Ianto Claus (linguist argue for an interim Yanta Claus, though no records of such survive). The other characteristics, however, spark more spirited debate._

-XXX-

"Looking good, Ianto Claus."

Ianto froze with one foot still dangling within the Rift. Jack noticed with approval that he'd finally settled on a reasonable choice of footwear. The dress shoes were long gone, the trainers had been a soggy disaster, and the less said about the brief flirtation with Wellies, the better. This was the third time running that the elastic-sided leather boots had made an appearance. They were kind of cool. Jack wouldn't mind scoring a pair for himself. Maybe not in ochre-red, though.

"_Ianto Claus_?" the man in question repeated, glaring.

Jack smirked at him with a complete lack of repentance. "You need a title of your own." Jack raised his voice. "Doesn't he Nick?"

"He does indeed," Nick agreed, nudging Ianto through as he spoke. The customary grin still sat well on Nick's face, but Jack noted with concern that the already impressive set of creases around his old friend's eyes and mouth had at least doubled just over the last year.

"But I'd hope we can come up with a better one than that. You can work on it if you like," Nick invited with his usual wink, "assuming you can't come up with a better way to spend your time, of course."

Ianto rolled his eyes before stepping through into the room. "The eternal double-act," he snarked. "The pair of you ought to open a stage show. At least that'd leave me free to get the work done."

Nick's laughter rippled through the room, distorted by the spiralling of the Rift as it closed.

-XXX-

_Given the origin of Christmas, the association of the Saint is easily understood. The Santa Claus image has a less reverent source, apparently owing his depiction to a popular brand of soft drink. Some historians dismiss this claim, others cite it as a prime example of the materialism of the period._

_Today, Ianto Claus embodies attributes of his forebears as well as showing his own peculiarities. He still drives a sleigh, which may be pulled by either the classic reindeer or the more whimsical white kangaroos. His purpose is as always to reward well-behaved children, but Ianto Claus is said to place particular emphasis on order and tidiness. The environmentalist lobby cite this as a response to the disorder and pollution currently existing on Earth. Parents the galaxy over are grateful, regardless. Though perhaps not always grateful enough to heed of the cries of 'Not instant, Mum' when preparing the obligatory mug of coffee!_

_More soberly, the emergence of Ianto Claus as portrayed today is commonly linked to the phenomenon of Global Warming. As Earth grew hotter and wetter, this figure, clad in his iconic all-weather gear, began to replace his fur-clad predecessor, though the two icons appear to have co-existed for the better part of a century._

-XXX-

Jack welcomed Ianto into his arms almost absently. "Is he OK?" he asked softly. "Nick, I mean. He looks..." Jack swallowed heavily.

"Old?" Ianto rested his head on Jack's shoulder with a sigh. "Tired? Yeah, he is." Ianto looked up, concern clear in his eyes. "He shouldn't really be spending so much time out of the Rift anymore."

Jack clutched Ianto more tightly, muffling any further speech with his shoulder. He knew what was coming and he didn't want to hear it. He knew full well that every year Nick managed was a gift to Jack and to Ianto himself, but the time would come when Ianto would have to take the mantle completely onto his own shoulders. And that would be the end of the side-trips. Jack wasn't ready for that, not yet. He wasn't ready to lose Nick, either. The old man had been a constant in his life for even longer than Ianto had.

"But he'll be OK, won't he?" Jack asked suddenly, following that new train of thought.

Ianto raised his head again. "He'll be fine," he said reassuringly. "Bored out of his mind, most likely." He shrugged. "I have it on several good authorities that it takes quite some time to grow accustomed to being restricted to the Rift."

Jack blinked at his lover as centuries of hints and suspicions coalesced. "_That's_ why Nick could call in help that time you punched through the ozone layer," he stated with an air of triumph. "I never could get my head around it before. So what, all of the past Santa's just hang around the North Pole waiting to be useful?"

Ianto frowned, both at the reminder of his previous mistake and the slur on his, er...profession. "They find ways to _be_ useful," he corrected defensively. "If not in our reality then another. Why, there was one who slid into another universe and spent a lifetime teaching magic school. He saved their world, pretty much, and still managed to help out when I," Ianto winced again, "Overreached myself that time."

Ianto's frown deepened as Jack collapsed onto the bed, doubled over with laughter. "And didn't we have a discussion about not rubbing that in my face every time you see me?" Ianto asked, with a dangerous edge in his voice.

Jack straightened with an effort. "Not you," he gasped, still laughing weakly. "Magic school, Ianto? Past Santa teaching magic school?"

"Delivering toys isn't the only way to serve," Ianto retorted, his face going stony, which only made Jack collapse back onto the bed. "I'll have you know that particular universe would've been taken over by evil without him."

Jack peered up at Ianto, wiping tears from his eyes. "You're telling me Dumbledore was Santa," he croaked.

Ianto nodded, unimpressed by the hilarity. "One of them," he agreed.

-XXX-

_Ianto Claus himself has changed over time. The earliest portrayals show a serious-looking young man peeking out from beneath the brim of his hat, bearing a sweet but shy smile. _

_This somewhat reserved figure may indeed be a reflection of the sad state of the Earth at the time; a damaged world trying to work its way back from a history of abuse. Hopeful, rather than cheerful, but still a reflection of humanity's fighting spirit._

-XXX-

"You're doing it all yourself now, aren't you?" Jack asked. Ianto's hair was as silky as ever beneath his touch, but the dark strands he remembered had lost out to silver.

"With much well-meant advice," Ianto agreed, wrinkling his nose in a way that while still adorable, emphasised the new lines carving their way across his face. "But yes, the last time Nick tried to leave the Rift, well, he couldn't." Ianto shrugged. "I'm managing."

Jack inhaled heavily, steeling himself. "But you can't keep doing this," he said, with as much conviction as he could summon while within him his heart began tracing along the long-healed cracks, seeking the quickest path to shatter all over again. "This extra day on top of all your other time out of the Rift, it's aging you too quickly."

Ianto pulled away and sat up, his face settling easily into the mask it hadn't worn for centuries. "I knew you had a thing for the boyish good looks," he snapped, "but this is shallow, even for you."

For an instant Jack considered how much easier it would be just to go with it, to let the sparking resentment do the work for him. But he couldn't. Not like this. It was bad enough having to end it at all. He yanked Ianto back into the circle of his arms with something very close to a growl.

"Don't be an idiot," he said wearily, as always hating that he had to be the one to make the hardest choice. "You've got responsibilities, Ianto - _Ianto Claus_ - and the power that goes with them, and you've got no right to fritter it away on...on me."

There was silence, but at least Ianto hadn't pulled away.

"I would have had to stop soon anyway," Jack continued, working to keep his voice steady. "The fiftieth century is nearly over. I have to drop out of sight before I'm born." He paused to shake his head at the concept, too relieved at the vibrations of Ianto laughing into his chest to query the change of mood. "And my earliest missions with the Time Agency had me all over the next couple of centuries, too. I can't risk travelling here every year."

Ianto had stilled within his arms. He wasn't even putting up a token argument. Jack ached in every cell. He'd gotten what he asked for, then, and irrationality he wanted to take it back. "Maybe we can set something up for..."

Ianto disengaged himself and kissed the speech from Jack's lips. "Or you could just come back with me," he suggested.

Jack stared at him, frozen long enough to take in the eye roll.

"You idiot," Ianto added.

A grin spread over Jack's face. "I could be Harkness Claus," he tried, rolling the title over his tongue. "Nah. Doesn't work."

Ianto arched an eyebrow. "Jack," he said firmly. "Jack...Frost?"

Jack nodded in approval. "I have always been a cool dude."

-XXX-

_But the season of good cheer needs a happy figure at its centre. One would have expected that the depictions of Ianto Claus would simply have developed lighter attributes. However, it would appear that the element to whom Christmas had always meant ice and snow took the opportunity to weave the embodiment of winter back into the celebration. Whatever the influence, Ianto Claus had barely taken the spotlight from the old Santa Claus before his companion stepped in to share it._

_It was a huge departure in that Father Christmas had always been portrayed as a solo traveller. A female figure occasionally did appear with Santa Claus, referred to either as Mary Christmas, or Mrs Claus. She, however, was neither a consistent nor convincing image, seeming to exist for the sole purpose of wearing shorts skirts in Christmas parades._

_Regardless, where there is Ianto Claus, there is Jack Frost, wearing a blue coat and a grin to outshine even the original jolly Santa._

-XXX-

"Java," Ianto muttered with approval. "Actual Java." He replaced the coffee mug carefully back onto his coaster.

"And pizza," Jack exclaimed. "These kids left me pizza!"

"Quite right, too," Ianto agreed, smiling broadly as he watched Jack scoff down his treat. "You're part of another legend now, Jack."

-XXX-

_And since then, Ianto has smiled too, with his hat pushed back on his head and an all-new twinkle in his eyes._

* * *

Notes:

My thanks to Taamar for allowing me to use her idea of children leaving coffee for Ianto Claus.

Mr Copper was the guide from the Titanic whom the Doctor left on Earth. His original guide to Christmas was terrible so I've let him revise it. Not that I'm saying he got it right, of course.

Oh, and Ianto's boots are Blundstones, if you're curious. (I suppose I ought to apologise for getting carried away with the Aussie garb. I was overcome by the burning desire for an Australian depiction of Santa that I wouldn't be embarrassed for my kids to see. Ooooh they get it so wrong - er, rant over.)

Thank you for reading. All the very best to you all for 2014.


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